It's One of Those Days
by HumanEmotion
Summary: Some days you should just stay in bed. Everyone has them. Including those in the crime lab, 'cause crime doesn't care one iota about how bad you feel. A set of humorous one-shots pertaining to our favourite characters 'I should've stayed in bed' days.
1. Green Isn't Easy

It's One of Those Days

Green Isn't Easy

**A/N: Right, so... it's 2am and I should be sleeping, but this has been sitting here on my laptop poking at me to upload it. Finally, a little something breaking through my horrid writers block that has been stuck with me for way too long! Okay, so what's this about? I've written a few small stories that are supposed to be funny and are centered around the characters of CSI: NY (That much should be obvious LOL). I could write them as single oneshots, but I figured "hey, why don't I just create one story with chapters?" The chapters don't follow each other, as they are supposed to be separate, but since the idea is the same... well, it makes sense to me. ;)**

**The summary? You know those days where you should have stayed in bed? Everyone has them. Including those who work in the crime lab, 'cause crime doesn't care one iota about how bad you feel.**

**This is set after Danny and Lindsay were married and Lucy has been born.**

**Disclaimer: Obviously, I do not own anything. I would not be sitting here this late putting this on a website if I did. Those who can and should take credit are CBS, the writers, creators, and producers of this fine show. Not me. I am none of those people. I own nothing but a car and a few cents to my name.  
**

**First up is Mac, 'cause he's the boss, ya know. I'm not sure how funny it is, but I liked it. You may notice that later on in the story, the beginning seems to repeat. It's supposed to. The past meeting the present or, more accurately, the present meeting the present. Enjoy!  
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"Wow, now _that's_ the way to start the day!" Danny Messer mocked, watching his boss, Mac Taylor, walk into the lunch room to drop off his lunch. Don Flack walked in several seconds later. He stopped, wrinkling his nose as he opened the fridge.

"Did somethin' go bad in here?" he asked, sniffing the air. Hawkes, who had been following him from down the hall, frowned and did the same.

"Morning, boys." Stella Bonasera greeted, Lindsay Messer on her heels. "Looking a bit dishevelled today, Mac." she said, not even intending for it to be a question.

"Did you walk to work today?" asked Lindsay innocently. "You said you might try it."

Mac shook his head and glared lightly at them. "Enough, people. Yes, I walked to work."

"Should'a taken the subway." Danny sighed, shaking his head.

_---FLASHBACK to day before---_

"What's up, Mac? You looked irritated." Stella asked as she walked in to the staff room to grab her lunch.

"Traffic jam on the way back from the crime scene." He grumbled.

"And…what about it?" Stella prompted. "This is New York."

"You're right, and there's just too much."

"Too much what?" Danny asked, passing a paper to Mac as he entered the room. "Results of the fingerprint test."

"Thanks, Danny."

"So?"

"So…what?"

Stella grabbed her lunch, rolling her eyes. She had to smile, though. Mac could be so closed off sometimes. Or dense. She wasn't sure which. Maybe he was just being ignorant.

Danny sighed, feeling mildly irritated. "You were saying that there was too much of something around here. I'm asking you what the 'too much' was."

It was Mac's turn to sigh. "There's just too much traffic, too much pollution. I'm going to do something different. I want to start _making_ a difference." he said with conviction.

"This is New York…" Stella repeated.

"Doesn't matter." Mac insisted.

"What doesn't?" Lindsay asked, poking her head into the room. Don was right behind her, stuffing the last bit of a hotdog into his mouth.

"Mac wants to go green." Stella supplied.

"Nothing wrong with that." Hawkes supported, entering the room with his lunch bag in hand. "Are you going to start taking the bus?"

"No. That's just more pollution. I want to walk."

"Walk?" Don asked incredulously. "Isn't that a long way?"

"It takes me only ten or fifteen minutes to drive. Half an hour to walk, I'm guessing. I'll get exercise, and I won't be adding to the excessive pollution that's already out there."

"Mac," Stella started, looking a bit worried. "You always leave work when it's dark out. Do you really want to be walking around this area at night?"

"I can handle myself, Stel." Mac grumbled. He didn't like people implying that he could be vulnerable. "I can also catch a late bus, or take the subway if I feel it necessary."

"You could also take the subway to begin with." Danny supplied helpfully. "It works for me."

"You live farther away, Danny. I just want to be as pollution free as possible."

Don still looked skeptical, but shrugged at him. "Go for it, then."

_-END FLASHBACK-_

--------------

---7:00AM present day---

Mac stretched, stuffing the last bit of toast into his mouth. He slugged down the last mouthful of coffee and walked into the bathroom to brush his teeth, then to his bedroom put on his dress shirt. He grabbed his coat and headed out into the hallway of his apartment building. He nodded politely to his neighbour and set off to get to work. He had given himself plenty of time so that he would not have to make his walk a hurried run.

He smiled lightly as he passed through a busy intersection. He took a deep breath. New York air wasn't so bad at this early time. He knew, though, that it was only because so many people were still tucked away in their beds. Wait until noon, then there would be choking smog. He turned off onto a park pathway. He knew of a few scenic shortcuts that would keep him from having to wait at traffic lights. It may even cut down on his time a bit. It's always good to show up a bit early, after all. He smiled at a few early morning joggers. They paid him no attention, the ear buds from their iPods blaring many different styles of music. A dog barked from a nearby backyard. A couple of children laughed as they kicked a ball around, their laughter ringing off of the cool morning air. Another shouted gleefully to her friend as they played on the park swings before school. Birds twittered. This was nice. Everything was peaceful.

At least, it _was_ peaceful.

Something with some substance hit him on the head. He reached up to feel something gooey. He cringed, whipping out a tissue to wipe at his head. He glanced at it before scrunching it up to throw it into the nearby garbage can. He cringed again, noticing the cream-white-green-tinged substance. Crap. Literally. He glanced up at the birds. They appeared to be staring and laughing at him. He shook his head telling himself that he was just being delusional and continued walking.

He was starting to feel peaceful again. He glanced down, and promptly stumbled. "That was close." he muttered to himself. Or was it? He carefully looked at the bottom of his shoe. Crap. Literally. He swore to himself. Weren't there rules about picking up after your dogs? Maybe this wouldn't have happened if someone had been more attentive during their daily walk. He tried scraping his foot on the edge of the pathway. He glanced around before furtively wiping his foot on the dewy grass. That would have to be good enough, though he knew it wasn't.

A little more subdued, he started walking again. He didn't think that he was going to feel so peaceful during this little section of his walk. Not with having to watch both the sky and the ground, after all. It took him only a few moments to realize that he should have been watching in front of him, too.

"Hey, watch where you're going!" a female teenager on a bicycle cried out angrily at him. He quickly sidestepped her, and would have called out an apology when he saw her nearly run down two more innocent joggers. Apparently, it was _their_ fault that she couldn't ride a bike. Or share the pathway like a respectable citizen. He rolled his eyes and kept going.

"Finally." he muttered quietly. He could see his building only a couple of blocks away. He glanced at his watch, noting that it was 7:45 already. His little hang-ups had cost him some time. Well, at least he wouldn't be late. At least, he _assumed_ he wouldn't be late. You could never tell with the way things had already been going. He stopped at the corner, quickly crossing the street when it was clear. Only one more block to go. Then he would be home-free.

"Whoa!" cried out a woman as they bumped into each other. Her coffee sloshed onto his jacket. "Oh, I'm sorry, I wasn't looking." She stopped as if she had had a second thought. "Though obviously, neither were _you_." she added, giving him a look. She wandered off, muttering about crowded streets and ridiculous coffee prices, and how it wasn't fair that she had to waste money on spilled coffee because people couldn't watch long enough to avoid her, so that _she_ could avoid spilling said coffee.

Mac sighed again and shook his head, taking out another tissue to sop up the rapidly cooling coffee from the arm of his jacket. If he was lucky, the stain wouldn't be noticeable against the dark material. He looked up. _Finally_, his building! He hurried inside, clocking in quickly and heading up to drop off his lunch. All he wanted to do was to get to his office and sit down. Maybe if he started working right away, he could forget what a disaster the morning had become.

"Wow, now _that's_ the way to start the day!" Danny mocked, watching his boss walk into the lunch room to drop off his lunch. Don walked in. He stopped, wrinkling his nose as he opened the fridge.

"Did somethin' go bad in here?" he asked, sniffing the air. Hawkes, who had been only a few feet behind him, frowned and did the same.

"Morning, boys." Stella greeted, Lindsay on her heels. "Looking a bit dishevelled today, Mac." she said, not even intending for it to be a question.

"Did you walk to work today?" asked Lindsay innocently. "You said you might try it."

Mac shook his head and glared lightly at them. "Enough, people. Yes, I walked to work."

"Should'a taken the subway." Danny sighed. Don quickly agreed with him, nodding his head for emphasis.

"Yep. It's so much easier. But I suppose you_ like_ walkin', then?" he asked innocently, though a smirk played at his lips. There were a few titters from his friends as they tried to hide their laughter. They smiled innocently at him, too. They hadn't missed the little bit of goop in his hair, or the stink from his shoe. Mac rolled his eyes.

"What's one more car?" he grumbled as his friends laughed. "Less stress, less mess."

Danny headed out the door, but stopped long enough to call mockingly behind him. "Or you could just take the subway."

END.


	2. Mirrored Pain

It's One of Those Days

Mirrored Pain

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter and set up alerts! Much appreciated. :D**

**Okay, now it's time for Stella's bad day. *evil look* I got this idea after watching "Melina's Moments," which you can "u-tube" if you haven't seen it yet. It's quite funny! Anyway, on with the show. This piece is quite a bit shorter than the first one, but I hope it's still (at least somewhat) funny. Enjoy! :)  
**

**Usual disclaimer still stands - I own nothing.**  
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Stella Bonasera walked briskly down the halls of the crime lab towards Mac Taylor's office, causing unsuspecting people to scurry out of her way. Don Flack trailed behind her halfheartedly. They were arguing over the case that they were working on together. Stella's eyes were like little green flames and Don's face was a tad pinker than normal, signs that neither was too happy with the other.

"I'm tellin' you, Stella, this case is shut. It's obvious, and you have the evidence that proves it!"

Stella was half turned to him. "Flack, the evidence may seem like it's all there, that it's all open and shut, but _I'm_ telling _you_ something's not right about this!" She waved her arms for emphasis. Though to an outsider it looked more like flailing than waving, considering her mood at that moment.

"Gut instinct?" Flack snorted, knowing it sounded sarcastic but not really caring. He was tired, hungry, annoyed, and he wanted to go home and relax. A movement caught his eye and he stopped quickly. "Stel, wait!"

"What, Flack? I…" Stella started.

_CRACK!_

--------------

Mac Taylor sighed. He could hear his two friends and co-workers arguing from down the hallway. He knew that any second they'd barge into his office and plead their cases, each hoping he'd take their side and prove the other wrong. He loved his friends dearly, but sometimes he wondered why he had taken this job position in the first place. If he wasn't the boss then maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't have to be the sounding board and mediator all the time.

He laughed to himself. No matter how annoying people could get, or how annoyed he felt, he still felt a bit sorry for Don. Stella could get quite the attitude when she was upset.

"Stel, wait!" Don's caution made Mac look up. The thud that followed after, as well as Don's uproarious laughing, made him dart out the door into the hallway to see Danny looking a bit horrified, trying to help the stunned-looking Stella off the floor.

"Geez, Stel, I didn't even see you!" Danny cursed. "I'm so sorry!"

"It's a glass door, Danny." Stella started.

"I know, I know, it's my fault. I should have seen you coming. I definitely shouldn't have pushed the door open like that…"

"It's a glass door, Danny." Stella repeated, rubbing her forehead. Her eyes were watering; Mac guessed it was from the pain. "I didn't see it either. It's not your fault."

"You okay, Stel?" Mac asked, watching Don trying to muffle his laughter. He had to admit, he felt like laughing too. He could just picture his usually strong friend making an ungraceful flop to the floor. He could also picture the little flames that would shoot from her eyes and pierce his soul if he ever told her that.

"Fine, Mac. Just peachy."

"Maybe you should get that head checked out." He cautioned.

"I said I'm _fine_, Mac." Stella repeated, a note of warning in her voice this time.

"I think I agree with Mac, Stella." Don said with as straight a face as he could muster. Stella glared at him, and Danny rolled his eyes. "I mean, look at the little face print on the glass…"

Mac shook his head and turned back towards his office. Don's uproarious laughing and sudden yelp of pain told him that Don had hit his mark. And that she had hit him because of it. Mac turned around again to watch her storm off in the other direction. Don rubbed his arm and started walking after her – they were still working on their case after all – and Danny examined the glass before him.

"Hey, there really _is_ a little face print here!"

END.


	3. Don's Doughnut Capers

It's One of Those Days

Don's Doughnut Capers

**A/N: Next up -- Don! Yes, yes... Even I'll admit it's quite odd. Out of character and all that. But then again, maybe it isn't. ^.^ Regardless, this one's even shorter. LOL. Hope you enjoy!**

**I still own nothing. Pooh.  
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Don Flack was having a bad day. It seemed like everyone he met was extremely dumb, minus his friends, and the criminals were worse. Whenever he went somewhere, no one would let him eat. Outside, it was raining. He was tired, he was hungry, and the second he stepped foot out the door, he became very, very cold and wet. He was having a bad day.

The one, tiny little bright spot in his day though was the bag of doughnuts that he'd managed to grab on his way back to the precinct. He sniffed deeply and smiled gleefully to himself. They were freshly made, too. He poked though the bag, finally deciding on a sugared jelly-filled one. He sniffed it again, snorting slightly on the powered sugar that made its way up his nostril. He sneezed, ignoring the giggles and guffaws that came from the officers sitting at their desks. He stared at his doughnut, imagining the taste, the feel of it on his tongue, licking up the leftover sugar that would remain on the corners of his mouth. He smiled, opening his mouth to take a bite.

"Flack! 419 in Queens. Let's go!"

Darn.

He wanted desperately to say that the dead could wait, but knew that he would probably be fired if he did. He sighed dejectedly, placing his beautiful doughnut back in the bag. He pushed his chair back and stood up. His stomach would have to wait. Again.

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Stella walked into the precinct and headed towards Don's desk. He looked like he was engrossed in the file before him. She smiled. There was a bag next to him. He must have finally gotten the food he so desperately wanted.

"Hey Don. Adam just gave me the DNA results. We're going to have to go back to the crime scene, take another look around."

Don looked up, startled. "Huh? Oh, sure Stel." He replied, looking back down.

Stella looked at him curiously. He was staring at the file, but she was positive he was not reading it. "Don, you okay? What's up?"

He stared at her dejectedly, looking like a lost puppy. He turned the bag upside down. Some sugar fell out.

"Somebody ate my doughnuts!"

END.


	4. Baby Troubles

It's One of Those Days

Baby Trouble

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews/alerts! They make me happy. :-D**

**I combined Danny and Lindsay because I had a heck of a time trying to come up with something for each of them -- more like I just pulled a complete blank LOL. I guess this is more Danny's day, but I think it works for both. Anyway, this is my favourite of the ones I have written, so I hope you enjoy! :-)**

**Standard disclaimer still applies.  
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"Danny!" Lindsay Messer hissed from the doorway. She was standing at the door of the lunch room at the Crime Lab holding her daughter Lucy, who was just barely 8 months old. Both mother and daughter looked irritated. Indeed, Lucy was pulling at her tufts of hair in frustration, looking pink in the face and snuffling. Lindsay looked like she was about to do the same. Danny looked at them wearily.

"You're not at home?" he asked.

"Obviously."

"That's not what I meant." Danny sighed. He started over. "What's wrong? Are you okay?" he asked, going over to them.

"She just won't settle, Danny!" Lindsay let out, looking like she wanted to cry. "I've tried everything. She just fusses and acts mad. She cries all the time. I don't know what to do!"

"Okay, okay, calm down. Maybe she just needs her Daddy's magical touch!" he replied, taking Lucy from his wife. "Isn't that right, Lu?" he cooed, tickling her chin. She wiggled a little, made a few noises, but her demeanor did not change all that much. "Hmm…" Danny mumbled.

Mac walked in. He looked vaguely surprised upon seeing the entire Messer family. "Hi Lindsay. Everything okay?" he asked, watching Danny trying to get Lucy to smile. Lucy firmly refused. Lindsay still looked haggard and irritated. She glanced at Mac before speaking.

"She just won't settle, and neither of us has had much sleep."

"Well, maybe Lucy just needs her Uncle Mac to give her a hug." Mac replied, taking his goddaughter from Danny. "Right Luce? Uncle Mac's always here to save the day for his little girl!" he cooed. Lucy frowned and wiggled some more. She made an odd 'hrumph' sound that both men had heard from Lindsay on more than one occasion when she was annoyed with someone or something. "Aw, come on Lu…" Mac continued. "Just a little smile? Show some teeth for Uncle Mac?"

Lucy wailed instead. "Well, look at that! Teeth!" Danny muttered sarcastically.

Mac, looking a bit startled, quickly handed her back to Danny. "Nevermind. Uncle Mac doesn't have his magic today." Lucy wailed some more, her small face going red and slick with tears. "That's your cue, Messer. Fix her."

Danny looked a bit panicked. "I've tried to make her happy already! It wasn't working! Who says it'll work now?" he asked frantically.

"What in the world is going on in here? Do you know how many people have stopped working just to try to figure out what's going on?" Stella cried over the noise, stepping into the room.

"She won't settle!" Danny cried back, trying to pass Lucy off onto her. Stella stepped back.

"Oh no, I don't think so Messer. I handle happy babies, not crying, angry ones. Besides, I think she might be…." Stella started, keeping her eyes on Lucy.

Lucy had quieted down only by a decibel or two. She wiggled a few times, tugging at her hair, then tugged at her shirt. Like a light switch being flicked on, she spoke in a way only a baby can. "Barp….!" she barfed.

"Sick." Stella finished, smiling innocently.

And so was Lucy. Finally feeling better, she giggled and clapped her hands, poking Danny a couple of times in the nose.

Lindsay looked relieved. "So she just had a stomach ache! No wonder she was awake for so long last night and cranky all day!" She took Lucy from Danny, quickly whipping out a spit rag and a clean shirt from the diaper bag. With the ease of a mother, she wiped off the excess puke and quickly changed Lucy's shirt. Lucy continued to giggle and squirm.

Danny looked a bit disgusted. His shirt now contained a big, wet, chunky splotch that had a greenish tinge. "You feed her peas recently, Linds?"

"She needs her vegetables, Danny." Lindsay huffed, playing with Lucy.

"Mmhmm." Danny mumbled. "I need to change…" He wandered off, passing Don on the way.

"_There_ you guys are. You people are hard to find! Baby troubles, Danny-boy?" Don smirked, watching Danny pass by him. Danny responded by saying a few unmentionables to him. "Language, Dan. There are little ears in the room!" Don mocked. He turned to Lindsay, who was still playing with Lucy. "Hi Lu! Why don't you come give your Uncle Don a big hug?" he cooed, picking her up. She poked him a couple of times in the cheek in greeting.

"Barp!" she barfed again, causing the room to erupt in laughter. Don looked disgruntled, quickly handing the baby back to Lindsay.

"Aw, that's just her way of saying hi!" Stella soothed, laughing. Don sighed and wandered off in the same direction as Danny. They could hear him mumbling down the hallway.

"Guess I didn't really need the tie anyway…"

Danny poked his head back inside the room, holding his white button-up shirt and looking a little alarmed. "Linds? I don't think regurgitated peas come out of clothing very well…"

END.


	5. Autopsy Troubles

**Whoa... has it really been a couple months since I last posted one of these things? I'm sorry! :( This was one of those chapters where, even though it started out fine, I just couldn't get anywhere with it. Sometimes they just don't come out on paper the way they are in your head. Finally finished it, though I'm not real happy with it. But hey, maybe it'll be fine. I hope people are still interested.**

**I'm not going to say that this is the last chapter. Ideally, I would like to make one for Adam, Hawkes, and Lindsay, but getting an idea for them is more difficult than one may think. I guess from this chapter on, the story will be on hiatus, but I hope I can continue with it sometime sooner rather than later. At least it's a story of oneshots rather than an actual chapter story. No cliffies. ;)**

**Anyway, this one is about our favourite autopsy doctor, Sid. There are a few song lyrics later on, but I don't want to ruin anything now, so the credit is at the end of the story. ;) Of course, you may have guessed what is going on before you even get to the lyrics, but anyway...**

**Disclaimer still applies. I still own nothin' at all.  
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It's One of Those Days

Autopsy Troubles

Sid Hammerback made a few notes on the newest body that had come into his lab. He always got a thrill of excitement. He truly loved his work. He felt sorry for the victims and their families, of course. He wasn't made of stone. But the idea that, when he identified the cause of death he could play a role, no matter how small, in catching whoever had killed them. That was the thrill. That was justice.

"Sid, what have you got?" Sheldon Hawkes asked, making his way into the room. He had been the one to bring the body in after the crime scene had been examined.

"Apparent struggle. He's got defensive wounds on his arms. It looks like someone came at him with a knife and he tried to block them, shown here by the diagonal wounds on his arms. I've got some odd looking trace from his fingernails, and scraped them for you." Sid said, pointing to the manila evidence bag on the counter. "Blunt force trauma to the head, but I can't say for sure that this is the COD. I haven't cut into him yet. Care to help out?"

Hawkes shrugged. "Sure, I'd love to." He, too, had enjoyed his days in the autopsy lab. The one thing he liked was that the dead were excellent listeners. They never talked back, never caused trouble.

Hawkes wandered off to wash up and grab a set of surgical scrubs and a pair of gloves. Sid turned around to grab the table with his instruments on it. He reached for the scalpel. A tiny sound reached his ears. A tiny movement made him jerk back.

"Sheldon?"

"What is it, doc?"

"What was the time of death on this guy?"

"At least six hours ago. Why?"

"Oh… nothing." Sid said. Hawkes looked at him suspiciously but spoke no more about it. Another small sound made Sid stop again. This time Hawkes noticed his hesitation.

"What's wrong, doc? You seem a bit jumpy."

"Are you _positive_ about the TOD?"

"Of course I am! I took the liver temp myself. It was at least six hours ago."

"I'm not necessarily talking about the time itself…."

Hawkes looked confused. "What in the world are you talking about?"

Another little gasp made them both stop. "Are you sure this guy is dead?" Sid asked, his voice sounding weird to both of them. He almost sounded… scared. Hawkes walked over to the table.

"Looks dead." he mumbled, poking the guy. He jumped when another small gasp escaped. Then he laughed. "It's gas, Sid. Just some air that was caught in the lungs. It's finally found its way out. The guy is definitely long gone."

"Right. Of course." Sid laughed, feeling rather foolish. He should have known that. He just wasn't used to gas escaping without him doing the piercing himself. He wasn't used to the sudden sound or movement without knowing that he was the one that caused the cadaver to release the internal gas. No one could blame him for being a bit startled.

--An hour later--

Sid cleaned up his instruments in the nearby sink. He and Hawkes had finished with the body and had placed the last stitch. Now he was alone in his lab, gearing up to do a second autopsy in less than two hours. He stretched awkwardly. Yes, he loved his job, but he also loved having a break or two in between. That was part of the job description though; crime never stopped for coffee. His next job lay under a sheet on table a few feet away. Another young man, this time with no outward signs of struggle. His COD must lie on the inside, and it would be his job to find out what that was.

He placed his instruments on a rolling tray and rolled it towards the autopsy table. He glanced at the toe tag tied to the man's foot. Corey Steinway, age 28. Sid sighed. It was always the young ones. He hated working on them, knowing how much life they would have had left, had they not come across whatever had killed them.

Sid rolled his eyes as he heard a small gasp escape from the cadaver. It was just his gassy day, he guessed. He stopped cold when a small movement under the sheet caught his eye. His frozen mind wandered...

_I was working in the lab late one night  
When my eyes beheld an eerie sight  
For my monster from his slab began to rise  
And suddenly to my surprise… (1)  
_

'Stop it, Sid!' he reprimanded himself in his head. 'It was just caused by the gas escaping.' He let out the breath he didn't know he was holding and took hold of the sheet, tearing it back.

"YAARGH!"

_CRASH! THUD!_

"ADAM ROSS!" Sid hollered, embarrassed about his cracking voice.

Adam sat on the autopsy table clothed only in a pair of shorts, laughing until he was practically doubled over. "You should see your face, Doc, it's priceless!" he wheezed, pointing towards where Sid was sitting on the floor, surrounded by his autopsy instruments. "And Hawkes owes me fifty bucks! He said it'd never work…ouch! Hey!"

Sid had just stood up and smacked Adam on the back of the head. Now he bent over, picking up the scattered instruments and muttering darkly about having to sanitize them again. He was having trouble getting the image of himself tearing back the sheet and having the cadaver—or rather, Adam—sit up suddenly, screaming and waving his arms. He poked himself discreetly, making sure he wasn't a ghost.

A heart attack and dying in his own morgue wasn't exactly his idea of a good time!

_END_  
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(1) Bobby Pickett and Lenny Capizzi, Monster Mash, 1962


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